Broken Bonds
by Seras Nova
Summary: Quiet and steadfast Serena Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall is a hollow shell, broken from betrayal. Despairing and racked with guilt, she battles her inner demons, as the group escapes the city. As her turmoil destroys everything in its path, Fenris desperately tries to put the pieces back together. End Act III and Beyond. (F)Mage Hawke/Fenris. M for future chapters (Sex, violence)
1. Chapter 1: Spared

**A/N: Hello everyone! First Fan Fiction story in nearly a decade! I REALLY would appreciate constructive criticism, because I want to continue the story and I could really use some help. This was originally supposed to be a one shot, but I want to expand on how I perceived the relationships post Act III in DAII.**

**I am using my Mage Hawke from one of my playthroughs.**

**R/R! Please enjoy!**

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**Chapter 1-Spared**

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"There can be no peace."

It was over. The sky was scarred; violent colors splayed out in ragged patterns across the expansive canvas. Ash and cinder began to fall, as gut wrenching screams played out a somber funeral wail. Eyes were frozen to the scene of fire and chaos; no words could be uttered. Fear of shattering what was left of the past with a single breath was too potent. Shock reverberated through the group, pinging along each member's face in different shades of agonized horror.

Save for one.

He stood there, unapologetic and stoic; eyes closed, taking in the rampant destruction he had created. A glazed smile crawled to his lips, and settled there, making a permanent home. He had done it. Justice had been served. The spirit that entwined his soul was sated, undeniably appeased at the climax of their nearly decade long journey.

As the gray dust began to settle around his feet, hushed whispers, angry shouts, and pitiful sobs penetrated his small moment of peace and victory. His eyes remained closed, unwilling for the first time, to walk down the right path.

He slowly turned around, not meeting anyone's eyes for a moment. But he could not avoid the burning heat of betrayal reflected toward him in amber flames. He took a deep breath and lifted his eyes to meet those of the woman who would decide how his story would end.

He expected the slight twinge of pain and guilt that fell to his stomach when he finally made contact with her eyes. To expect anything less would be foolish. What he didn't foresee, however, the twisting his heart made when her lips parted, in a silent scream. Broken. He felt the closeness they had shared for the past several years break apart. Her molten eyes were two angry slits of fire, and for a brief, weak moment, he wished he had never known her, never known that maybe, just maybe, it didn't need to end this way. But his cause was Just, and he knew that this moment would come. He accepted it, as he knew he always would.

An assault of questions and accusations rained down on him. He recited his mantra to them, damning Orsino's lack of true effort, condemning Meredith's vendetta. He spoke with conviction, all on his own. Justice was fully integrated into him now, and he let the truth of his plan speak as loudly as he could. The Circle had failed them, he couldn't let the punishments and abuse continue under Chantry rule.

"I removed the chance of compromise, because there is no compromise."

As he finished, he glanced over toward the one woman that had not given into the rage churning within her.

As her eyes cooled from lava to stone, she turned around and faced the rest of the party. Meredith wore a look that could only be described as maddening. She spit as she spoke, demanding the Champion's support to proceed with the Right of Annulment. Orsino was incredulous, frantically shouting that the sins of one mage should not condemn the entire Circle. He could see Orsino's plea was useless, just as it always had been. Meredith's rage and hatred and burst from the loose confines of her soul, and she was determined to protect her city, no matter what the cost.

He listened to these proceedings with a detached expression. He felt other furious eyes on him, from one barbaric individual in particular. The glow of the elf's intricate tattoos was nearly blinding, and his face was contorted in an ugly twist of fury. They stared each other down briefly, warrior and mage. When the elf realized the man had nothing to offer, not a fight, not a plea, he growled softly. His clawed gauntleted hand twitched eagerly. The mage for his part, just contemplated him speculatively, no more childish remarks or jealous quips. He knew the elf had won. Denying it would only make his cause less worthy, less justified.

Then, a brief wave of silence echoed, before the Champion's quiet, low voice rang with conviction in that hollow space.

"I'm not helping you Meredith."

With that single, softly spoken statement, Meredith could no longer control her barely concealed ire. Her blue eyes glazed over with foreign gaze, inhuman and crazed.

"You are a fool Champion," She said in fiery whisper. Meredith's voice carried over the screams and dusty haze.

"Kill them all. I will rouse the rest of the order!"

And with that, chaos began. The mage felt life spring into his hands once more as he twirled his staff and aimed. _This was not what I wanted, she wasn't supposed to become involved._ His thoughts ran wild as he shot bolts of lighting at a Templar charging toward him. He glanced to his left and the breath in his body left him.

She was there, in beautiful fury, thrusting her staff in every direction as she took on three Templars at once. Her blond hair whipped around her face, framing the delicate features that they had all come to know and love. Looking closer, he saw the heat in her eyes, the taut way she held her mouth as more bodies fell at her feet. It was an aura of grim desperation and resolve that guided her magic, shielding any of her companions that may fall. And he knew where that despair came from. He knew her too well.

The weight of another decision was now burdened once again on her shoulders, and he knew that she realized that this may be the last one she ever made.

In a matter of minutes the battle was over. For now, the Templars had fallen, and the party was mostly uninjured. The mage settled back, away from the people he once regarded as his surrogate family. He knew there was no happy ending to this, and he was prepared. He sat on a crate, looking straight ahead, drowning himself in memories.

He remembered the first time he met her. The memory was vivid and bright, as if it were happening all over again. He had thought her a trespasser, an enemy. But when he whirled around to face the intruder, he only saw a small blonde woman, with tawny eyes staring resolutely back at him. And he knew that this was no ordinary encounter, no common mage. Nothing was average about the quiet, and dedicated woman that he began to fall in love with.

And yet...if only things had turned out differently. If only he hadn't pressed her constantly, begging for her support when she had so many others to care for. If only he had been the one to come to her aid when her mother fell at the hands of one of their own. He allowed himself to be completely consumed with the cause. He had been blind to her needs, her desires, her fears.

And then the damned elf had materialized into her life. Arrogant, barbaric and proclaiming a profound hatred for all things tainted by magic. He had seen the look on her face when the warrior, in his uncontrolled banter lashed out at her, the only person that had even bothered to understand him, despite being the very thing he despised. His indignant anger after the elf stormed off was brushed off by a gentle touch on the arm from her. She was hurt, but not angry. Even after the fool left her, she still waited, patiently and quietly, as she did with all of them.

As she did with him. And he betrayed her, after everything. The weight sat upon him like a giant boulder. He prayed for it to crush him soon.

He caught the end of Orinso's farewell as he came back to reality, the smoke and debris alerting him to the fact that he could not escape this painful conclusion for long.

"I will leave your...friend for you deal with. I must return to the Gallows. Meet me there as soon as you can."

As Orisno fled the area, the Champion's shoulders sagged, her small form seeming to wither in front of them. The elf made a move to go to her, but the dwarf held up his arm, blocking access. Slowly she turned around, her features as still and hard as if they were etched in stone. She made her way over to where the apostate sat, standing behind him.

This was it. The moment of judgment had finally caught up with him. He took a deep breath, refusing to turn and meet her gaze. He needed her to understand, like she did before. Like she had always done.

"There's nothing you can say that I haven't already said to myself. I took a spirit into my soul and changed myself forever to achieve this. This is the justice all mages have awaited." His voice rang with his determination, and he felt a pang of pride for keeping his voice so steady.

"Did that spirit tell you to do this?" she finally asked, her voice smoldering but it carried hope that this may not be all of his doing. He almost smiled, thinking that, once again, she was too good for this world. Only she would give him the benefit of the doubt after seeing what they had all just witnessed.

He sighed softly.

"No, when we merged he ceased to be. We are one now. I can no longer endure the injustice of the Circle than he could."

There was a slight pause as she took a deep breath, trying to hold on to her temper.

"I might have understood if you'd only told me." The bitterness in her voice tore another piece of his heart.

"I wanted to tell you. But what if you stopped me? Or worse. What if you wanted to help? I couldn't let you do that." His voice broke slightly, faltering on the last line. He struggled to keep his calm, and continued to stare off in the distance.

"The world needs to see this. Then we can all stop pretending the Circle is the solution. If I pay for that with my life, then I pay. Perhaps at least Justice would be free..."

He felt her sharp intake of breath as it seemed to finally dawn on her, She remained silent for a moment, and then he heard her quiet voice ask, "Opinions?"

He almost laughed. After all of the difficult decisions she has made, after he had even told her that he knew he was prepared to die, she didn't want to make this decision alone. He felt another tug at his heart, and his eyes grew misty as he realized that despite her anger, she was unwilling to forfeit his life.  
_Maker, what have I done?_

The mage sat on the crate, absentmindedly listening to the others' views on what should be done with him. To him, it didn't matter what any of them thought anymore. He had disconnected himself from everyone, even the dwarf, who had become a sympathetic ear over the years. He was alone.

The brother was demanding his head on a platter. To the mage's surprise, he felt a small surge of compassion for the man. He looked like he wanted to tear out his hair, cry and slaughter everything in sight at the same time. The mage remembered feeling that way on a daily basis. No one deserved to feel like their insides were being torn in two. He sighed. _What's done is done._

Idly, he did hear the blood mage speak up, asking that he would be made to repent if he was taken along with them. His lip twitched as he thought of the little elf being the one to ask for his redemption. If he could feel anything beyond resignation, he may have felt a pang of guilt at berating her on a daily basis. As it was, he could barely feel his own skin.

He felt her move again behind him, heard her fingers running up and down her staff. The silence was agonizing, as he waited with baited breath. He could feel the pulsating heat from her body, still adjusting after the skirmish. A faint scent of vanilla and lavender invaded his nose. The smell triggered his memory, remembering that she would stick some behind her ears and on her wrists after they had finished a battle. She hated the expensive perfumes displayed in the market. She was so natural and simple.

So Hawke.

She remained still as stone. He couldn't take it anymore.

"Whatever you do, just do it."

A pause. Brief and fleeting.

"Help me defend the mages."

Her voice was soft, but clear. The shocked gasps behind her made their way to Ander's ears, but he ignored them.

"You mean..." he shakily stood around to face her. He locked eyes with her. Hawke's face was still an unmoving mask, but her eyes confirmed what he had heard.

"Stay with you? I didn't think you'd let me."

She said nothing in response, just kept her cool eyes trained on him.

He found a lightening of his heart, as he straightened his shoulders. Perhaps there was something he could still do to make her see. To make her understand that what he did was necessary, That what he did was Just.

"But if you do, I'll fight the Templars. Damned right I will!"

"No!" The brother prince finally had reached his limit. He stormed up to Hawke and shouted in her face. "You cannot let this abomination walk free. He dies or I am returning to Starkhaven and I will bring such an army with me on my return that there will be nothing left of Kirkwall for these maleficarum to rule." His threat burned in the wake of the destruction and chaos. But Hawke was not a force to be trifled with.

"Do not interfere Sebastian." The words rang out in the vacant streets of Lowtown. Her once soft spoken demeanor was gone. Hawke's eyes matched the heat in bereaved brother, and she clutched her staff tightly at her side. Sebastian looked at her with a sudden sadness, as if he always knew it would have come down to this moment, one way or another.

"I will not fight you Hawke. My death now would serve nothing," The prince's fury returned swiftly as his eyes found Anders, and spit out every word in his direction, even as he addressed the Champion. "I will return to Starkhaven, but I swear to you I will come back and find your precious Anders. I will teach him what true justice is."

And with that, Sebastian walked out into the hazy din that remained of the city, and disappeared.

All of the remaining companions looked toward their leader, who had bowed her head after the departure of the prince. Anders heard her take another controlled breath, and the pang of guilt he had felt earlier, widened a canyon in his heart. He made a move to comfort her, when he heard a low growl from across the courtyard. He sighed and took a step back.

"Thank you for my life. I will try not to make such a mess of it this time," he said, with a small quirk on his lips.

Her head snapped up as she looked at him. For a moment, he was frightened; her eyes were vacant holes, distorted from an anguish he could not even hope to understand. There was great pain in those eyes, that no spell of his could ever heal. Then, as quickly as the moment came, it was gone, She shifted away from him and turned to the rest of the group.

"Let us go," she said simply. She turned once again, and headed toward the screams and the clatter of swords on staffs, her faithful companions at her back.


	2. Chapter 2: Inevitable

**Chapter 2-Inevitable **

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"ARGH!"

Fenris felt the bellow rise in his chest and burst forward into his throat, as his sword tore through another Templar, spurting hot, red fire across his face. The shock in the eyes of the young man was vibrant anguish, even through the small slit in his helmet. Just a moment later, the spark of fear was extinguished, a vacant, hollowness consuming it, as his body fell to pieces at his slayer's bare feet.

The white haired elf swore to himself as he lowered his blade. He grimaced, and began to he feel the uncomfortable sensation of guilt. He took a moment to gaze at the crumpled form in front of him.

"_Vade cum honore militari."_

He quickly brushed it away as he heard Hawke's cry in the middle of the chaos.

He whirled around just in time to see her silhouette fly a few feet in the air, and land hard on the stone floor. She had been Smited, and the Templar responsible was closing in on her.

Fenris hesitation vanished. He grasped his sword, still bloody from his most recent kill, and ran at full speed toward her. He saw Hawke parry the Templar's strike with her staff, and shifted herself quickly to knock his feet out from under him. The Templar did not fall, only stumbled; but it gave Fenris enough time to remove his head from his shoulders in one clean sweep.

He did not glance at the new corpse, and went to help Hawke up, but she was already struggling to her feet. He took in her appearance, and saw a fresh cut on her face, blood streaming down her cheek,. He made a gesture toward his pack, indicating she should take a potion, but she disregarded him completely. She staggered forward, drinking a vial of lyrim as she did so.

In the distance, Fenris saw Varric fending off at least four Templars on his own, Bianca moving faster in his fingers than ever before. He could tell the dwarf was starting to tire, his shots growing more wild.

Hawke's fingertips glowed as she raised them above her head. Daggers of lightening crackled in the air, the crashed down upon each of the Templars. Screams emitted from the armored men, each of them collapsing in a heap at Varric's feet. Varric looked down in confusion for a moment, then back at Hawke, flashing his trademark grin. Hawke did not return it.

Fenris saw her start to assess the battle, which was slowly winding down. They had killed most of the Templars, a few stragglers being targeted by the rest of their party. Unfortunately, it had seemed they had lost a great number of their own. Mages, young and old, were strewn out across the battleground, bloodied and lifeless. Fenris' saw Hawke's normally straight shoulders sag, and he realized she was trying to control her breathing. Her eyes were closed and she leaned heavily against her staff.

He moved to her quickly.

"Are you hurt, Hawke?" He gently touched her arm, near her elbow, in case she needed steadying.

"I'm fine, Fenris," she whispered, her voice hoarse, "I just need a moment to think about what we are going to do next."

"Well, our numbers are down, but everyone we have left seems to only have minor injuries," Fenris replied, knowing this was her greatest concern.

He stood closer to her, his low voice in her ear.

"I told you not to die, and you have kept your promise so far. I hope you don't intend to break it," said Fenris, brushing a stray lock of white blond hair that had escaped from her ponytail.

Hawke opened her eyes to look at him. He offered her one of his rare, crooked smiles.

"Fenris, I don't know...I don't know what I am doing," her voice cracking with emotion.

"Believe in yourself, you know the others do," Fenris said bracingly, "Now, let's figure out our next move."

Hawke nodded, and gave a tiny, grateful smile. She straightened herself up, and grabbed her staff, heading over to the rest of the group as they finally took care of the last Templar. She looked her companions over carefully, looking for any major injuries. Varric was a little bloody, which was normal, and Aveline was helping Carver apply pressure to a small wound. Merrill looked virtually untouched, obviously having listened to Hawke's battle orders. However, it seemed as no one was worse for wear, and that Anders had been on top of healing everyone. Fenris saw the mage, standing in the back, a few feet away from the group. His clawed gauntlet twitched toward his sword, eager to have it out with the terrorist mage. He knew this wasn't the time, but the memory of Hawke's pained face when she had learned of Anders' betrayal still burned in his mind.

Before Hawke could address the group, Orsino spoke.

"Look at it all."

Orsino was surrounded by the bodies of his fellow mages, and the grief was evident in voice.

"Why don't they just drown us as infants. Why wait? Why give us the illusion of hope?" The First Enchanter's eyes were glazed over with tears, the room silent as he turned to Hawke.

"I refuse to keep running. I won't wait for her to kill me."

Hawke's body tensed, but she attempted to keep the mood light. "I hope you aren't giving up without taking a shot at Meredith?"

"I am not giving up. I am giving in," Orsino's low voice echoed in the hall. The majority of the group looked confused at his words, but Fenris' body tensed and his hand slowly reached for his blade. He knew what was coming. The inevitable.

Orsino continued. "Quentin's research was too evil, too dangerous so I put it aside. But I see now there is no other way." Fenris saw Hawke blanch, her face pale and drawn. To hear the name of the mage who killed her mother come from the First Enchanter's lips had sent her into a state of shock.

Just then, another round of Templars burst in, weapons drawn. Hawke's companions made moves to engage, but Orisno's voice carried over the din, distracting all of them.

"Meredith expects blood magic! Then I will give it to her." Orsino uncovered a dagger and slit his wrist, letting the blood drip down onto the floor.

"Maker help us all."

And with his final words, Orsino began to glow, pulling the in engery around him. The bodies of the fallen began to move toward him in shimmering haze. They converged into a mass, wrapping themselves around Orsino's form. As the transformation progressed, Fenris thought he saw a dead hand caress the First Enchanter's face, before being completely submerged by corpses.

The result of Orsino's final stand was a massive gray abomination; a fearsome creature with gray limbs dangling from is clay-like body. Its face was a grotesque mask found only in the nightmares of the Fade.

Fenris readied his sword, and the other companions began running into their previous posts, shouting at each other in panicked disarray. Fenris made the move to slam into the beast when he noticed a lone figure standing in the path of destruction.

Hawke.

She just stood there in shock, her amber eyes glazed over with disbelief, her staff loosely held at her side. Fenris' heart seized with fear as he saw a large, gray fist swing down toward her.

"HAWKE!" Fenris screamed, dashing to her, shoving them both out of the way. They crashed to the hard ground together, narrowly missing the blow.

With that close call, Hawke's immobile form sprang to life, and swung her staff forward, creating a Stone Fist. She hurled it at their foe, causing it to roar in pain.

Fenris grimaced as it quickly recovered, lashing out wildly, almost sending Merrill into a wall. Hawke dashed forward, and began casting offensive spells as fast as she could, barely avoiding another heavy punch. Her fury was unmistakable, each movement precise and damaging. Fenris paused a moment to admire her strength and willpower, as she weakened the creature with each strike. Then he saw her stumble slightly, exhausted and out of mana.

The elf shook his head, muttering to himself, "_Festis bei umo canavarum!*" _He picked up his blade once more, and rushed into the fray, making sure to keep Hawke in his sight.

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**A/N:**

_Vade cum honore militari.: _Go with honor soldier.

_Festis bei umo canavarum :_You will be the death of me

Okay so I meant to get this chapter up earlier this week, but I have a sinus infection since Saturday, and that makes it very difficult to look at the screen.

**First note: **This was originally supposed to be longer, but I have decided to split it into two chapters. As I wrote it, I realized it would pack more punch to split the two final battle sequences into their own chapters.

**Second note: **I wanted to use this chapter to show Hawke's waning optimism and endurance. To me, I feel like very few people, Champion or not, would be able to withstand the constant assault of betrayals, secrets and heart break without having a breakdown. Which is pretty much the point of this story.

**Third note:** Although not overly fluffy, I wanted to show the relationship between Hawke and Fenris. I promise there will be a bit of fluff eventually, but I don't agree with stories that try and put it in the middle of battle where everyone is dying. Doesn't make sense to me.

Alright! I will try to have the next chapter up within...a week? Let's see how my medication for this infection holds up! :)

Please read and review! I would love to know how to make this story better!

-Seras


	3. Chapter 3: Corrupt

**Chapter 3-Corrupt**

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_How is he not DEAD yet?_

Hawke's thought was echoed in a cry of frustration as the creature, formally First Enchanter Orsino, continued to thrash about, knocking her friends to the ground.

The mage gritted her teeth, knowing there wasn't another option. She took a deep breath and ran at full speed toward the beast, and thrust herself upwards towards it. Hawke grabbed a hold of one of the dangling limbs near the head. She gripped her trusty dagger, and thrust it into the creature's left eye. It screamed a hideous wail, and Hawke viciously stabbed it again.

Then, like lightening, an idea struck her. She grabbed hold of the rotting gray flesh, pulling its limbs, stretching and twisting them with all of her might. She grunted and gasped, feeling the muscles in her arms burn with the effort.

SNAP.

The sound ended with Hawke flying back to the ground, along with the slithering head of the monster. It flopped madly on the stone floor for a moment. Hawke quickly stood, and moved toward it. Without hesitation, she slammed her foot into its head, grinding it into a pulp.

Although it had stopped moving, Hawke remained still, frozen in place. Her breaths were ragged; blood and sweat mixing to fall on her lips. She tasted the salt and iron in her, and it brought the memory she had been fighting the entire battle.

* * *

"_I was wondering when you'd show up. Leandra was so sure you'd come for her." The thin, quiet voice grated on Hawke's already frazzled nerves. She wasn't in the mood to play games._

"_Where is she?" she growled. She heard Fenris and Varric draw their weapons. Anders remained eerily still, staring in confusion, at the silhouette of a woman in a chair, behind the elder mage. _

"_You will never understand my purpose," the thin voice dropped to a menacing pitch. "Your mother was chosen because she was special. And now she is part of something...greater."_

"_Spare me the demented rambling. _Where is she?_"_

_He merely smiled as if she were a young child, failing to understand her own question._

"_She is here, she is waiting for you," he tilted his head back to the woman in the chair. The figure remained as still as stone._

_He turned to Hawke and her companions again. "I have done the impossible. I have touched the face of the Maker and lived!" _

_Hawke shook her head in disbelief, and looked to Anders for help. Anders simply shook his head, indicating he was just as baffled as she was. Before either could get another word in, Quentin continued his rantings.  
_

"_Do you know what the strongest force in the universe is? _Love._" The last word lingered on his lips, as the wore a demented smile. He walked closely to the chair where the woman sat, still immobile.  
_

"_I pieced her together from memory. I found her eyes, her skin, her delicate fingers. And at last, her face. Oh, this beautiful face," Hawke felt a twisting of her stomach, as she head those words. Suddenly, the figure in the chair rose clumsily, staggering to her feet, moving to turn toward the group. Quentin continued to ramble._

"_I've searched far and wide to find you again, beloved. And no force on this earth will part us!"_

_Hawke's heart dropped to her stomach when she saw the distorted parody of her mother's face contorted in a silent scream. Her jaw dropped as she saw what was once her mother stagger and wobble, on legs not her own. The gasps behind her did not register. She was on fire with rage._

_Quentin meanwhile, had taken advantage of the party's shock and horror, to summon shades and skeletons. Hawke's fury ignited and she spun toward their attackers, setting them ablaze with both fire and lightening. Fenris and Varric had to duck out of the way as she tore into their foes with wild abandon. Anders stood frozen for a moment in utter disbelief, unwilling to see what magic had done._

_And while the battle wore on, Leandra stared back at them, with empty, hollow eyes._

* * *

"Serena...Serena, ENOUGH!"

Hawke felt strong hands gripping her from behind, pulling her away from the now disintegrated head. She struggled against the tight grip, wanting to hit, punch, zap her way out of her past, out of her memories.

She felt herself being shaken roughly, and then being turned toward Carver. His blue eyes pleaded with her, shining with tears of understanding. "Sister, enough."

Hawke shook her head slowly, refusing to let the tears come. The silence in the room was only broken by shifting armor and heavy breathing from her companions. Calm and collected once more, she gently removed herself from Carver's hold and moved to inspect the party of injuries again.

Aveline's eyes were closed tight in pain, as Anders moved his hands over a head wound. Blood ran down her cheeks and her face was pale. At her elbow, Merrill was holding the warrior's waist to help steady her. A bruise was blossoming on the blood mage's face, from where she had been hurled to the floor by the creature. Varric was in a corner, already drinking a potion to help soothe the pain from taking an arrow to the knee. She then glanced at Fenris, who was sporting a bloody lip, but was otherwise fine. They shared a brief, burning look before she turned her gaze back to Carver, who seemed to be the only one that was untouched.

"I suppose this was easy in comparison to darkspawn, you being a Grey Warden and all," she said, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Serena, you don't have to do that," Carver murmured.

Hawke just looked at him and smiled sadly, "Yes, I do Carver."

She looked back at her group and gave them a crooked smile. "Alright everyone, make sure you take a potion if injured. I need everyone to pull it together one last time."

Anders finished healing Aveline, and the rest of them swallowed as many potions as they could. Each turned toward her, grim lines of determination set in their faces. She felt a flicker of her former rage when her eyes fell on Anders. The minute he saw the flames back in her eyes, instead of looking down in shame, he met her gaze, an open request for compassion and understanding. Hawke forced herself to look away. Grabbing her staff, she turned and started to march out into the Gallows' courtyard.

"Let us greet the Knight Commander."

* * *

"And here we are Champion, at long last," Meredith sneered as Hawke and her party approached.

Hawke glared at the armored woman, and retorted, "You'll pay for what you've done here."

Meredith's eyes flashed with intense hatred. Her sneer turned into a grim smile.

"I will be rewarded for what I've done here. In this world and the next!" Hawke felt Anders next to her, clutching his staff tighter. Fenris was at her other side, sword already drawn. She switched her focus back to the Knight Commander as she continued ranting.

"I have done nothing but perform my duty. What happens to you know is your own doing," Meredith finished.

Suddenly, there was a shift in the Templars collective mood. Some glanced at each other questioningly through the slit of their helms, murmuring discontent. Cullen then stepped forward to face the Knight Commander.

"Knight Commander, I thought we had intended to arrest the champion," Cullen struggled to keep his tone neutral.

Meredith's eyes narrowed, "You will do as I command Cullen." A brief moment of stunned silence followed.

"No!" Cullen's booming voice rang out in the courtyard, "I defended you when Thrask started whispering you were mad. But this is too far."

"I will not allow insubordination! We must stay true to our path!" Meredith quickly unsheathed her sword from her back. As she did so, the blade burst into a red light, settling in a bright glow. At the sight of it, Varric gasped and nearly dropped Bianca. Hawke felt her mouth go dry, and her eyes became fixated on the sword.

Meredith's mouth turned upwards into an evil grin, "You recognize it, do you not? Pure lyrium, taken from the Deep Roads. The dwarf charged a great deal for his prize." The last words lingered on her tongue, lashing out directly to Hawke and her group.

Hawke held up her arm to block Varric from charging straight into the Knight Commander. With her heart thumping in her ears, she attempted to handle the matter with her usual sense of calm.

"The idol poisoned Bartrand's mind in the end," Hawke's quiet voice was low, and gentle. It failed to do as she intended.

"He was weak whereas I am not!" Meredith spit back.

She turned to her troop of Templars and barked, "All of you I want her dead!" She thrust the tip of her sword toward Hawke, causing the mage to take a step back.

Cullen intervened once more, "Enough! This not what the order stands for! Knight Commander step down. I relieve you of your command." His voice was firm and bold, the rest of the Templars already looking his way for direction.

Meredith's eyes widened in disbelief. "My own knight captain prays to the influence of blood magic."

And with that realization, Hawke saw the last bit of humanity in the Knight Commander snap, lost in her madness. Meredith began waving her sword in every direction, each thrust wielding her accusation.

"You all have! You are all weak, allowing the mages to control your minds to turn you against me.

But I don't need any of you! I will protect the city myself!"

The knight captain had enough. He drew his sword, blocking the enraged woman from Hawke and her party. "You have to go through me," Cullen raised his sword to his superior, his face impassive.

"Idiot boy. Just like all the others," Meredith's face lowered, her eyes dark with anger.

"She's clearly lost her mind," Anders voice carried a slight tone of surprise, as if he didn't even realize how far his foe had gone. Hawke was just about to turn to him and tell him to be quiet, when a loud CRACK had her head spinning back around.

Meredith had buried the tip of her sword into the stone ground, bursts of red light coiling around her. Burning wind and crackling rushed through the courtyard, setting everyone into a mild panic.

Except Hawke.

She stared down at the kneeling woman, staff in hand and started to move toward her. Then, without warning, she stood, and swung her sword outward.

"Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter!"

Hawke's body reacted before her mind did. She dove out of the way as Meredith's blade bore down upon her. She felt the thrill of the warm metal graze her sleeve, barely missing her. She crashed into the ground, but was on her feet in a second. She took a breath, and tried to work everything out in slow motion.

Meredith was coming at her again, seeing no on else but her. The Templars were all in shock, save for Cullen, as he began shouting orders. Her party was scattered around, each trying their best to reach her before Meredith did. As the Templar got closer, Hawke raised her staff to meet the red blade. In the distance, as the pressure of the sword met the staff, she caught a glimpse of dark green eyes widening in fear. She refocused her attention to the blade.

Meredith was stronger than she was,so Hawke tilted her staff to the right and let the blade slide, throwing the Templar off balance. Whipping her staff back, Hawke sent a Mind Blast that struck the former Knight Commander in the back. It barely nudged her. Instead, the heavily armored foe pivoted forward and slammed her arm into Hawke's face. The mage fell once more to the ground, her head striking the stone. For a moment, she felt as if she was blind, a blackness overtaking her. Then, a warm glow radiated in her chest, and she felt herself being revived. She opened her eyes in time to see the red sword bearing down upon her. She quickly rolled to the left, once again barely missing the blow.

She staggered to her feet, glancing to her left as she saw Anders by her side, a green light fading from his hands. Hawke refused to meet his eyes, and instead cast a series of lightening bolts to rain down on the enemy. Meredith screamed out in agonized ire, but was met with more blades and arrows from Hawke's companions and rest of the Templars.

Varric was shooting from Bianca nonstop, and the three warriors had surrounded the fearsome woman, diving in to find her weak points. Cullen's orders were obeyed, and the Templars had also employed their skills.

Meredith unexpectedly sank to her knees. Hawke rushed forward, staff raised high, ready to cast another spell. The glowing blade slide from Meredith's grasp, clattering down in a hollow echo. Thinking the battle over Hawke inched closer to accept her enemy's defeat.

She discovered she was wrong.

Meredith struggled to her feet, eyes glowing red, gasping out her desperate mantra.

"Maker your servant begs you for the strength to defeat this evil!" she bellowed into the Gallows.

And with those haunting words, Hawke knew the battle had just begun.

* * *

**A/N:**

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. It was one of the most difficult ones to write, considering I had to constantly reference videos and research certain dialogue points.

Now, the reason it took so long, is because my sinus infection decided to hang around for, well, EVER. I'm still not at 100% but I am getting there. I really am sorry this took so long-half of it has been done for a month, but I couldn't bear to bring my eyes to the computer screen with a pounding headache and searing nose pain. Ick.

I wanted this to be in Hawke's 3rd person POV, to further the emotional process she is going through. I know it seems like it is dragging, but I need to set this up for the future chapters.

Now that I mostly passed a lot of game dialogue, I am hoping it will take less time to write chapters. The next chapter will hopefully be up sooner than this one! :)

Please read and review!

~Seras Novia

PS: Hope some of you got the pop culture references I sneaked in there.


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